


Story (Re)Formed

by ThoughtfulFangirl



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Afterward, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-03-21 14:11:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13742625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoughtfulFangirl/pseuds/ThoughtfulFangirl
Summary: After the Raven is defeated and Drosselmeyer can no longer affect those in Kinkan, Fakir continues the story on his own terms. But there’s a missing story, one he intends to writes. This is the story of Ahiru, the friend he most wants to connect with. But it can be difficult, connecting with a Duck.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I watched the English dub of Princess Tutu, so I actually think of her as Duck, but I’m generally a fan of using Japanese names, so I have been getting in the habit of thinking of her as Ahiru. Thus she will be referred to as such in this story. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Also… I hate coming up with titles. I’m not good at it at all. Please forgive

_ And so, the story finally ended. Princess Tutu—or Ahiru as we know her better—was wounded and unconscious when she was collected by the failed knight.  _

_ Let us not linger on the failed knight, as this is not that story. But if that description feels unkind, rest assured he was a failed knight only insofar as he'd come to find he was never meant to be a successful knight, or or in fact, any kind of knight at all. His relevance to this story is that it is through him we may know our heroine did not lay crumpled on the cobblestones after defeating the Raven's curse upon the townsfolk who had earlier battered and bruised our dear duck, and she was not alone as Mytho and Rue took up their own battle against the Crow himself.  _

_ No. By the time that battle was done, she was bandaged and lying in a soft bed next to a gentle, warm fire. _

_ Which is all as you may expect from your fairytales. Except, normally in the happy fairytales, our heroine is a princess, waiting upon a marriage to make her queen and living happily ever after. She did live happily ever after, but she was no longer a princess, and she did not earn the prince's love. In fact, the prince had decided to love only Princess Rue—the other heroine of this tale, for let us not fall into absurd notions that there can only be one.  _

_ Prince Mytho and Princess Rue thanked Ahiru and returned to their story. Ahiru remained behind, returned to who she had always been before and who she was always meant to be—a  duck, now mostly recovered. And though this came at a great cost, she was not alone. The failed knight had made a promise on the eve of that fateful night. He promised to remain by her side, and so he kept that promise. And the duck was happy, and the man who had once thought himself a knight, and who had failed, was also happy, to be now outside the story and with someone his heart truly held in high esteem.  _

Fakir stared upon these words. 

He'd written them as Ahiru had slept and was recovering and had tucked the parchment away. He had not returned to them for some time. He had accepted his power, but he had decided that he would not be like Drosselmeyer. He did not want to play with people's fates. He had written this story to help Ahiru and to help Mytho. She had asked him to, had given him permission.

But since the crow was defeated and Drosselmeyer rendered powerless, he had turned his quill to a different story, the story of Mytho and Rue returning to Mytho's world and forging a brand new tale, one never told before. One Mytho had asked Fakir to help him make, so someone who knew him as he truly was could keep him on his true path and not down the easier, long well tread path.

And that's how it should be. Except approximately a year later, he was strangely discontented with the state of things outside the stories. 

His old teacher, Neko Sensei, who had always been an obnoxious creep but also often managed to have just the right words for a teenager in distress, was just a cat now. Not a cat like Ahiru was a duck. He was just a cat. All the anthropomorphized people had either become fully human or fully animal. It made the Town of Kinkan seem... emptier, somehow. The faces looked more the same. 

And with Mytho and Rue gone, he felt lonely. For a while, Ahiru and Autor had been enough to fill those holes, but those were different relationships, and he could hardly remember a time without Mytho being a driving force for him—no longer having someone to protect and guide. 

It was just... strange, navigating this world that had gone back to a semblance of normal, reshaping his life without Mytho—with friendships that were so different in every way than the one he had grown up with. 

Ahiru's voice and chatter were becoming distant memories. It was hard to believe he had known her now longer as a duck than a human girl.  

He knew it was for the best however, and though it had faded, he still held relief that his fate was his own now, no longer pulled by invisible strings that would choose who and what he should and would be. 

For a while, this had all been enough. After classes were over, he would go to the lake and meet Ahiru. 

It was halting at first, his attempts to talk at her. He had never been really chatty—that had been Ahiru—but now that she was only a duck, she couldn't. But it was clear to him her mind had not changed. So, he had told her about how Pike and Lillie were doing, about the new dancing teacher, and whatever else he could think of. She'd listen intently until he ran out of words, and then he would toss her some corn kernels or frozen peas. She seemed to like them frozen; they had an extra crunch to them. He liked the way she'd carefully position them at the tip of her beak, lean her head back, and crush them with a soft ' _ phlat _ ' before opening her beak wide so the rest could fall into her mouth. 

It had taken a while for Fakir to get comfortable with the talking. He preferred to just  sit and read or fish at the pond, with Ahiru swimming nearby. He'd wished she could be the one talking and that he could just listen, but of course that wasn't possible. 

But over time, the words had come more freely. He had spoken more openly about what was going on around him when he wasn't at the pond, but also too about his thoughts and feelings. It was after he'd started opening up like this that she began crawling into his lap as he talked, and he'd pet her absently as he spoke, occasionally looking down into her attentive eyes. 

But lately, something had begun to change. Ahiru had started to grow more distant. 

It's not that her eyes had taken that animal look—he didn't think she was losing her intelligence and becoming animal-like in mind. But as he saw her less, the times he did see her, he began to notice that she'd been growing. Her feathers weren't that bright orange of when he'd first met her. They had grown in paler, and there were even a smattering of white feathers. Her neck had elongated considerably. He had hurried to the library shortly after noticing this, worried suddenly at how much time he would have with her, for duck's lives weren't so long as a man's. 

The books had managed somehow to both alarm and sooth him simultaneously. His study had led him to believe that Ahiru, specifically, was a Pekin duck. Their lifespans were around only 10 years—much too short for Fakiru to accept. But they also fully matured well within their first year, and a year had passed, and Ahiru didn't match the appearance of a fully grown Pekin duck. Perhaps whatever it was about her that kept her brain sharp and human-like would also give her the longer lifespan. As long as that didn't fade—he asserted to himself—Ahiru would live far longer than any average duck. 

"Ahiru all right?" 

Fakir looked up from the assorted fowl-life books he had collected in the library. Autor suspiciously had no books in hand, and as Fakir's eyes swept the other youth in search of such an item, he was fairly certain a faint flush crept up his cheeks. He'd put whatever he was here for away before approaching. 

"Yeah." Fakir responded, sliding the notecard he'd been using to take notes down between the pages of his current book and closing it. "I think so." 

Autor sat down across from him and cleared his throat. "I wonder why you have books about ducks for no reason then?" 

Fakir looked up to the rafters for a moment, bidding himself patience with his insufferable friend. "I have a reason, Autor. I just," He looked down at the hardcover book laid in front of him and ran one finger down the spine, listening to the soft crackle as the library's protective plastic moved under the tip of his finger. "I should know more about her. Like, what to expect and what she needs. That sort of thing." 

"I'm surprised you haven't done that already!" Autor said matter of factly. Fakir took a deep breath. He meant well, he did. "If  _ my  _ best friend was a duck, I would have done my research right away." 

"You do like your research." Fakir said, nearly mumbling the words. 

"Yes I do! If you're ever struggling to find something, let me know. I can find even the most obscure things in this library." It was a boast. But it was also just the way Autor talked, even when he wanted to be helpful. Some days it was easier to overlook how insufferable the boy could be, but today, Fakir struggled. 

Fakir stood up. "Thank you," He forced himself to say. "I will let you know. If there's anything I can't find." And with that, he decided to head home instead of risk saying the series of less courteous sentiments that were coming to mind instead just now. 


	2. Chapter 2

When Fakir got home that night, he pulled a fresh journal from the shelves lined across the wall of his room. After he had come into his power and told Karon of what had taken place, the man had taken it upon himself to supply Fakir with fine journals. At first, Fakir had been dubious of the gift—not because he didn't appreciate the gesture, but because this was not how Drosselmeyer had done it. There was power in Drosselmeyer's method, and Autor would be dismayed and perturbed to see Fakir writing, removed from all the amenities Drosselmeyer had insisted upon. 

But as Fakir thought this, he'd accepted the gift with a strange sense of giddiness. He had chosen to be nothing like Drosselmeyer, and why shouldn't that mean doing this differently? It was in these journals that he had been telling the tale of Mytho and Rue. 

This fresh journal wouldn't be for Mytho or Rue however, he thought as he crossed his room and placed it on his writing table. He set his palm against the soft, brown leather front and stared down at it intently. No. This was for someone else. He would only wait until he received her permission. 

The journal remained untouched for two days. 

Though Fakir had gone to the pond both days, Ahiru did not come to him. That first day, he believed he saw her with some mallards at the other side. It evoked a bittersweet emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on. It wasn't even the first time he'd seen her playing with a group of ducks, but it reminded him again that they were growing more distant. If only he could understand  _ why _ . He knew school and his new... friends... took up more of his time now, but he still made an effort to regularly visit the pond. And Ahiru was always welcome in his home. But she had come so infrequently lately. 

He had resolved to be happy that Ahiru had new friends, instead of jealous. And so, after only a couple of hours, he'd returned home. He lay on his bed for some time that night, fingers laced and hands cupped under the back of his head. He pointedly ignored the journal pressing forlornly into the wood of his desk, brooding on the fact he couldn't fill it yet, stubbornly refusing to touch his already begun journal until he could start this new one. 

The second day was worse, and every time he was in his room, there was a phantom itch, like the paper under that leather cover ached to be scratched by the tip of his pen. His fingers were restless throughout the day as he thought about it and frequently found himself with one hand gripping the crook of the other arm while his free hand touched thumb alternately to the fingertips of his first and second fingers, drawing endless circles across the pads of his calloused fingertips. 

And when there was no sign of Ahiru at the pond the second day, he prowled the cobbled streets of the town. He told himself that he just needed the fresh air and to stretch his legs. He also had to acknowledge that he felt that he had too much energy, that it had welled up, and he had to let some leak out. 

When he finally could no longer deny that his eyes kept straying to places he remembered seeing Ahiru as a human girl, he morosely made his way home. It bothered him that as he made his way there, hope rose in him that she had visited. It wasn't unusual, especially on a foggy and moist day like this, for her to want to spend the night somewhere warm where free food could be found. 

He was all the more upset when he got home, finding she wasn't there, that he'd allowed himself to hope she would be. It was silent for a while as he and Karon ate that night. One of the times he'd glanced over at his guardian, he caught a concerned look from him. Karon, seeing that he was caught, put his utensils down and folded his hands together, elbows on the table. He lowered his chin onto his knuckles and let out a heavy breathe.

"You've been miserable all day. What's wrong?" 

Fakir pushed his food around for a moment, feeling that inward spiral that had been his means of protecting himself in the past, where he pulled down his emotions and stifled any hint of them from others. It was a spoiled feeling, a habit gone rotten from overuse. 

Packing his emotions into a tight ball that he could slip in his pocket had allowed him to keep his distance from everyone. He’d thought it was important, in order to be a knight, to be able to push his own feelings aside and do what was needed for those he protected. But he was learning that emotions wound tight came out twisted. Doing this allowed him to channel his feelings into anger and contempt, and it was simply unwise to hold onto this habit.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "I think I'm just overreacting about something." 

"If you feel it, then it's real." Karon pointed out. "It will help for you to face it." He winced a moment after saying this, and Fakir's eyes dropped. 

"Very few things are entirely bad." Fakir said softly, wanting to ease that wince off the face of his only family. "There are some knightly notions I don't have to discard entirely—like facing my fears. I just..." He freed his hands, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms in front of him. This felt enough like that inward spiral, he nearly immediately uncrossed his arms and set his palms firmly on his thighs. "Ahiru hasn't visited me in a while, and I'm afraid..." He glanced up at Karon, who watched his boy intently. "I'm afraid I'm losing her." He laughed bitterly and clenched his fingers around his legs. "She's not even mine to begin with. She's a duck. We live in two different worlds. Only, her mind is so human. That life can't be enough for her. Why does she avoid me?" 

Fakir heard that intake of breath that preceded someone speaking, but when nothing followed it, he looked back up at Karon. The man seemed to be having an internal struggle. Finally, he said haltingly, "Could she... I mean the others... the ones who..." He shifted, also leaning back, pushing his chair out from the table a little, as if preparing to stand. He seemed to think better of it. "Could her mind... I don't know. Like theirs did?" Fakir could tell Karon didn't want to speak the words, give voice to the thought that she was just like any other duck now. 

Fakir took a deep breath. "I don't think so. It's not like I haven't seen her relatively recently. Her mind seems to be unchanged. I'd like to think I would be able to tell..." He hated the way his voice lifted as he finished, as if he was asking a question. He hadn't meant to sound so unsure. But could he really know? When was the last time he'd really tried to provoke clear responses from her? His chest tightened, and he bowed his head again as the wave of grief became physical. It made him regret the meal he'd just eaten. 

A hand interrupted the rising wave of tension, the sinking weight of fear. He looked up at Karon, who then pulled him into an embrace. The man had no words of comfort, and so he held the boy he considered a son, and Fakir, exhausted from days of fretful thoughts and recovered by a year of work at opening up, let his arms wrap around this one constant in his life, returning the embrace and doing nothing to stop the slow leak down his face. 

He just wanted her permission. Then he could know. 


	3. Chapter 3

"You've seemed awfully distracted today." A soft voice broke into his reverie as he headed out into the school grounds, heading for home. He turned to see Pike and Lilie coming up beside him. Pike was looking at him, mild concern between her brows. 

"Ooh! Do you have a cruuush Fakir??" Lilie's higher, louder voice broke in, and she grinned at him. "Now that Pike's made it into the Advanced Class, do you realize how graaceful and how pretty she is?" Dramatically, the rambunctious blonde mimed a swoon. 

Fakir rolled his eyes, and Pike's face flushed. "Lilie!" Pike growled in a low voice. "Give it a rest. Besides, didn't Ahiru like Fakir? It would feel strange, you know... since she disappeared..." Fakir looked at her, and the pink haired girl looked to the ground as they walked. He didn't think the look of sadness on her face was because of some missed opportunity to date him, and he wondered for perhaps the millionth time if he should try to tell them again. It had been too early that first time; they had still seen him as he had once been—rude and uncaring. 

"Don't be silly! Ahiru only had eyes for Mytho! We only thought she might like Fakir because she was spending so much time with him, but I'm sure it was just because he was close to Mytho, and she wanted to get close to him that way. So romantic! And I'm still convinced she ran off in despair when Mytho and Rue left together. I just wish she would have..." 

Fakir's fists clenched and he tuned the blonde out. He couldn't listen to this any further. He liked Pike and genuinely enjoyed having her as a friend, but he still found that he didn't understand her or Ahiru's friendship with Lilie. Sometimes  Lilie’s overzealousness about everything dramatic was fine, and he knew it didn't come fro, a place of maliciousness but rather intrigue, but damn if he didn't hate it. But Ahiru liked hearing about both of them and what they were up to. 

He caught Pike looking at him. She hadn't turned to do so directly, but her eyes were glancing over, and as she didn't look away at his catching her at it, he noticed her expression of apology. Lilie, of course, didn't notice, and she chattered on. It made him wish that he could run into Pike alone for once. 

As they reached the road, Fakir turned to head home. 

"Fakir." Pike's voice cut through Lilie's stream of the dramatic, and the girl fell silent to watch. Fakir turned to Pike, his eyebrows up in question. "Aren't you coming to the dorms?" 

He looked past her toward the dorm houses. He still had a room there at Karon's insistence. The man had hoped Fakir might want to return, but it was his old life. It was his life of possession over Mytho and obsession over who he falsely thought he should be. He never planned to go back. He shook his head. "No." He answered with a slight lift of his right shoulder. 

Pike continue to stare at him, and Lilie looked about ready to burst. 

He spoke before she could make something of the situation. "Did you want me to walk you two back to them though?" He didn't really want to now, with the way Lilie was nearly salivating at the exchange. 

"Mm. No. I was just curious. Have a nice day!" Pike said, waving at him with one hand and grabbing Lilie by the other, pulling her off toward the dorm's before the girl could embarrass everyone. 

He waved back to her and then quickly headed away as well, not wanting to hear what the blonde was going to say as soon as Pike gave her the chance. 

Maybe Lilie was onto something, with that quip about Pike having a thing for him. She did act strangely sometimes. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know if she did though. He wouldn't know what to do. 

He thought about it for a while, as he walked toward the pond, but it was driven from his mind when he arrived and saw Ahiru on the dock where they often sat together, waiting for him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahiru enters the story in the flesh and POV

After the events following the Raven's defeat and Ahiru returning to her life as a duck, she and Fakir had set up some basic lines of communication as they could no longer talk verbally. 'Yes' was a double chitter from her, and a no was a trumpeted Ahhk. A head tilt and a short, quiet chirp was ‘clarify?’ or ‘elaborate.’ I don't know' or ‘I don't get it’ was a lift of her wings just at the curved parts—the section most resembling shoulders. 'I like that' or 'good' was a waggle of her tail—which was just as well as that just happened when she was happy anyway—and a full and sudden lift of her wings was 'I don't like that' or 'bad.' 

It all worked quite well for her, as these felt natural ways to communicate, and she never would have taken the time to parse this out, except Fakir wanted pretty clear cut methods of communication. She hadn't been able to deny him that, as he was still trying to figure out his place in the world now. 

Interestingly, at first, it was much harder for him to adjust to the new life they had than she. He had been in a place, when they met, where other people's feelings didn't mean as much to him. Mytho was never really able to express his, so the only person Fakir cared to try and read was of no help. Now, he seemed to struggle to understand certain things, so it was important that he could be sure of what she was trying to say to him. 

And that groundwork had made it easier when he came rushing up the pier to her this particular afternoon. "Ahiru!" He called, almost vibrating with energy. She propelled herself toward the dock, and coming up alongside it, allowed him to reach down and pull her up onto the boards. He set her down and stepped back as she immediately began to shake the water off her. She then looked up at him and ruffled her feathers in pleasure. 

Sometimes, the more time she spent with him, the more she developed a sense of unease, of longing, of loneliness. She wondered if he felt the same and worried he spent too much time hanging out with a duck when he should be spending more time with other humans. He talked a lot about trying to be himself instead of who he had tried to be as a knight, and she thought he was perfect just the way he was now that he'd stopped being so mean. But was that the case with others in his life? 

Distracting herself with the animal friends she had made was all well and good for a while, but she couldn't help but find herself missing Fakir's conversation and her friends and the sound of music. She wished she had a way to ask him if he'd dance for her. Perhaps she could go through the pain again of attempting it herself and he might understand. 

Fakir cleared his throat, and she focused on him. Something about the way he held himself seemed a bit awkward. She tilted her head questionably and gave a quack to let him know he had her attention. 

"I'm—hey. I've been, uh, hoping to run into you. I've been wondering," His eyes shifted to one side and Ahiru wondered if she was seeing color rising to his cheeks. She gave another chirp and shuffled her feet, her curiosity piqued.  

"Would you be okay with...? Can I." He stopped, took a breath, and then chuckled in exasperation at himself. "Can I write your story again?" HIs eyes slid back so he could catch her answer. 

Admittedly, Ahiru hesitated for a moment, which she saw perplexed him.

"It's okay if you don't want me to!" He said quickly, loudly, his hands fluttering out, shaking. 

Ahiru was at a loss with his assurance. He wouldn't understand what she meant if she indicated yes or no now, and she chittered her amusement. 

Honestly, it wasn't that she had any issue with him writing stories about her, she didn't think. It's just that... what was it? She pondered this as she waited for him to provide a question she could answer. 

Her story would be boring. She didn't talk to anyone. Nothing happened. She ate, she swam, she played with the mallards or geese and even a cat once. She often slept with the mallards or at Fakir's home. But there was nothing exciting or fun. Nothing was going to happen. The most exciting parts would be when Fakir was around, and if he was always writing during that time... what could that be like?

Fakir finally seemed to understand the stare Ahiru was giving him and flushed. "Okay." He seemed to take a deep breath. "I will have no hard feelings if you answer no, but may I start writing your story again?" 

Ahiru let out her double chitter that meant yes and wagged her tail. It had been long enough since Fakir last wrote for her. 

When the dust had begun to settle after everything, it had seemed right at the time that they get to know each other without his writings and stories, now that they were just beginning to explore what it meant to just be themselves and not the caricatures designed for them. They would have to navigate their relationship anew, and that level of intimacy—hearing him in her head, feeling his presence, knowing he could access her every mood—could have been too much just then. 

Between her adjusting to her life fully as a duck and him still being shaken about his new powers, he had been wary about using them to write about her. 

Though for some reason, he'd finally been able to write for Mytho. Over time, she'd actually found herself a bit jealous of that, and now the prospect of being able to feel his presence in her life as she had on that fateful night wasn't something she found herself able to say no to, even though she wondered if truly she should have. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry ya'll. I have both forgotten to post this chapter for some time and have not written another. Been a little stuck. I really want to finish this and know where I want to go. I need to work through this block and how to get from this point to the next and maybe even watch some more Tutu to get the voices back in my head. My apologies

_Our story begins with a duck. At a glance, Ahiru seems to be a typical pekin duck, nowhere beyond 15 to 20 days old. The strangest thing about the sight of her might be that she was a wild pekin duck—instead of domesticated— for she was not fenced in or outside some farmer’s cottage._

_In truth however, this would perhaps be the least strange thing about her._

_This friendly duck of a yellow so pale, it was beginning to verge on white, was no younger than a year old in fact but had already lived an adventure full of intrigue and love and drama, and most of all, of friendship and hope._

_You see, our heroine had been part of a story woven by an evil author named Drosselmeyer. Drosselmeyer had never truly expected much from Ahiru, but her love of the noble Prince Mytho propelled him to present to her a shard of this prince’s heart. This shard, containing the prince’s hope, gave Ahiru power to transform into a rambunctious human girl as well as the elegant Princess Tutu._

_Ahiru, as Princess Tutu, loved and protected and saved everyone in the town, but she was never intended to go so far, as her role had always been a machination of Drosselmeyer—a role to propel the story to tragedy. In the end, she gave up her human form to be her true self and make Prince Mytho whole again—utterly defying the design laid by the evil Drosselmeyer._

_Ahiru was forever changed by her experiences. While those from the story went back to themselves as others of their kind had, Ahiru the duck had kept the mind she’d had in the story and as a girl, and she did not age like other ducks. It is perhaps another story, the why of these things and this magic persisting, but let us believe it is a consequence of Ahiru’s persevering and hopeful character that caused her to transcend the realm of normalcy and remain attached to the human world._

_But though a year had passed and Ahiru persisted, she had begun to feel withdrawn from that world, unable to communicate with those she held dear as a girl, watching her dearest friend waste away his time hum—_

Ahiru nipped at the journal in Fakir’s lap as she felt the magic of Fakir’s writing pluck an uncomfortable thought from her mind. Her doing so caused his pen to fall from his fingers–dislodged as he scrambled to keep the journal from falling, and the pen slipped between the boards of the dock into the water below. Ahiru ruffled her feathers and gave a low, groaning chatter—apologizing.

Fakir reached down and ran his hand down her neck, resting his hand at the curve of her wings for a moment, reassuring. “Want to grab that for me? I wouldn’t mind, but Karon got it for me, and—”

Ahiru chirped at him before waddling to the edge of the dock and diving into the water. She sank down to the sandy bottom and worried for a moment that she wouldn’t be able to find it in the sand and muck, but there was just enough sunlight lancing between the boards of the dock and striking the silt below. The pen had several reflective parts, and it winked at her almost mockingly just as she had thought she wouldn’t be able to find it. She swam down to it and thrust her beak deep into the silt, making sure the metal was well between the edges of her beak before gripping and coming up to break the rippling surface of the water.

She floated away from the dock a bit before turning back, judging she had given herself enough distance to get a bit of height with her wings and back up onto the dock. She wasn’t entirely sure she could make it, but she had been growing, and her wings were able to lift her farther now than they had in the past, and so, she made the attempt. The few moments she got herself airborne were glorious, and as she made the awkward landing onto the dock, she almost tried to express her excitement at her success but caught herself at the last moment, as doing so might have meant losing the pen still held in her mouth.

Instead, she strutted over to Fakir, and as he took the pen, she trumpeted proudly at him.

“Is that the first time you’ve done that? I think it is.” He grinned, but it seemed forced, and there was something sad in his eyes.

Ahiru gave an inquisitive ‘ack?’ and tilted her head at him, wondering what might be concerning him. When he ignored the question and went to shaking his pen and wiping it on his pants, she nipped at his journal again, ruffled her feathers at him, and shot him a scolding sound.

“What?” He asked, laughter in his voice.

She stamped her feet, not sure how to communicate her question any further if he hadn’t already understood her inquiry.

“Would you like me to stop writing? Oh!” He reached into his bag and pulled out a handful of dry corn. “I see, you ran out. That’s why you nipped at the journal huh.” He carefully placed the second handful on the boards in front of him.

She began to peck at the corn but watched him while doing so. She wished she could ask him about that look in his eyes. That had been an exciting moment for her, and she couldn’t understand why it might bother him. She wondered, for perhaps the hundredth time, whether or not he was happy about the promise he made her, and she resolved herself to let him have tomorrow to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Bonehandledknife for being my gracious and awesome beta!


End file.
